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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28236303">Ever Fixed Mark</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dialects_and_Costumes/pseuds/Dialects_and_Costumes'>Dialects_and_Costumes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sonnets are Sexy, Pass it On [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire &amp; Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>69-ing, Allusions to sub-space, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Bi Brienne, Bi Jaime, Blood is mentioned, Brienne is too hygenic for that, F/M, Fantasies of restraints, It turns out Brienne in fact DOES go down, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Porn with a little bit of Plot, Praise Kink, Tattoos, There is praise kink discovered in the process of tattooing, and that leads to eventual filth, but not to worry, however, more kinks to be tagged as I add them, sexy bath times, slight graphic description of tattooing, tattoo aftercare as a form of flirting, there is no sex happening immediately post tattoo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:01:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>16,382</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28236303</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dialects_and_Costumes/pseuds/Dialects_and_Costumes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime decides to get a tattoo to spite Robb Stark and discovers a few things about himself over the course of the three hour ink session. Mainly, how much he wants his artist, one Brienne Tarth, to pin him down and fuck him until he's dizzy and she's panting with satisfaction.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Sonnets are Sexy, Pass it On [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742974</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>113</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>167</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/forbiddenfantasies/gifts">forbiddenfantasies</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired by <a href="https://unadulteratedkr.tumblr.com/post/635723848863612928/stopppppp-im-going-to-pass-away-just-thinking-abt">this post</a> and ruthlessly egged on by the indelible and magnificent forbiddenfantasies. If you're lucky enough to know her, you too will most likely have a WIP you can blame on her expert cheerleading. It's her superpower. LOVE YOU, YOU BURST OF SUNLIGHT</p><p> </p><p>Title comes from Shakespeare's 116th sonnet: "Let me not to the marriage of true minds"</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>Robb Stark just couldn’t keep his damned mouth shut, could he?</em> Jaime stands outside The Inked Thorn, glaring at his faint reflection in the glass. The eldest (and easily most insufferable) of Catelyn’s children had been bragging through the pain of his fresh tattoo at the annual Stark Family Trust holiday party, flashing the still healing wolf-tooth on his wrist at anyone who was unlucky enough to be corralled into a corner. Jaime wrinkles his nose as he recalls just how quickly he had been to open his own damned mouth to drawl at his employer’s kid.</p><p><em>Very impressive, Stark. Are you planning on shutting up any time soon, or can you not handle the pain of a tiny bit of ink without</em> <em>the rest of us fawning over you like you’ve returned from battle?</em></p><p>Robb Stark had shrugged with a theatrical wince and clench of his hand before affecting a self-righteous tone Jaime would bet money he learned from <em>Ned</em>.</p><p><em>Swipe at me all you want, Lannister. I don’t see you sporting </em>anything<em> permanent. Anywhere. </em></p><p>Robb had been summoned by his mother before the two men could throw any more thinly veiled insults towards one another, and Jaime had whipped out his most derisive snort for the few people glancing over at him, masking his desire to march after the obnoxiously happy Stark so he could punch him right in the tattoo. He wasn’t sure how he had planned to effectively punch someone in the wrist; all he knew was if anyone deserved it, it was Robb Stark.</p><p>And so Jaime finds himself now standing outside the tattoo shop where his artist is waiting for him. The beginning of Long Night celebrations means the autumn air is starting to lose to the sharper bite of winter, and Jaime huffs in impatience with himself as the cold begins to make his nose and fingertips tingle.</p><p>
  <em>No use in freezing to death when I’ve got a deposit down. Open the damn door, Lannister. </em>
</p><p>Jaime’s residual irritation with Robb Stark had resulted in a quick web search in the taxi ride back to his new apartment in the bustle of King’s Landing, and the next morning, Jaime had been nursing his third cup of coffee when he found an email response that caught his attention. “B. Tarth” had gone to the effort of sending a quick sketch in addition to their price quotes, and that extra level of care is why he’s now walking into a tattoo parlor ready to add ink to his body.</p><p>When Jaime steps into the parlor, he’s taken aback by how calm the atmosphere is inside. It’s not manufactured with any cliché of candles or “soothing” music, but the interior is more serene than most spas in the whole of King’s Landing. The furniture is covered in soft black suede, and the walls are painted in a hazy lavender that all combines together to throw Jaime’s equilibrium out the window. He’s tempted for a moment to glance back at the business’ name on the door to make sure he didn't walk into the wrong shop, but his impulse is cut off by a grizzled woman entering from a back room, who glances him over before speaking.</p><p>“Welcome to the Inked Thorn, do you have an appointment?”</p><p>Jaime gets the distinct impression the elderly woman is less than impressed with him as she waits for his reply. Jaime arches a brow at her, but he remains on his best behavior with his answer.</p><p>“I do. Jaime Lannister.”</p><p>The ancient woman behind the counter’s eyes brighten with a type of glee he would normally associate with children opening their Long Night gifts rather than a wrinkled and thoroughly tattooed senior citizen.</p><p>“I take back every single impulse I’ve ever had to sell this shop if it means I’ve got a Lannister walking through the door to get inked up.” She cackles and Jaime is suddenly very glad the only thing his artist has told him to look for upon arrival is “the tallest person in the shop operating a needle” because there’s no way this woman is the B. Tarth he’s been emailing. It’s a relief knowing he’s not going to need to sacrifice every last cent of his deposit to prevent this cackling demon from being the one to wield the needle.</p><p>“Who’s your artist, boy?” Jaime resists the urge to answer back with a dig of his own at her age, and he could swear the woman behind the counter nods faintly in approval at his restraint.</p><p>“Tarth.”</p><p>“Smart choice, and I’m not just saying that so I can pocket some of your father’s money. You have a few minutes; fill these out.” Jaime accepts the outstretched clipboard to tick off the final boxes in between him and his tattoo, replying over his shoulder.</p><p>“Just for the record, it’s my money. All you’ll be doing is letting me desecrate sacred Lannister skin.”</p><p>Jaime sits down on one of the couches as the old lady cackles on her way down a flight of stairs, turning his focus to the release forms.</p><p>
  <em>Have you experienced jaundice in the previous ten days? Are you pregnant? Have you consumed any alcohol within the last eight hours?</em>
</p><p>Fervently hoping no one has ever selected “Yes” on any of those at the same time, Jaime scores the pen through “No” for each question and finally signs his name at the bottom as he hears the old woman return.</p><p>“Brienne, this is Jaime Lannister. Mr. Lannister, this is Brienne Tarth, your artist.” The old woman’s tone is positively gleeful, although she’s managed to stop cackling. “Any issues with the paperwork?”</p><p>Jaime has half a quip about his recent pregnancy formed as he looks up, but they disappear like a nervous bride at the beginning of a rom-com as he catches his first look at his tattoo artist. Standing quietly behind the old bat is most certainly the tallest person wielding a tattoo machine in the shop. Also-</p><p>“You’re a woman!” Jaime exclaims, followed by an immediate wince. “Sorry. You know that. I just assumed…” He trails off as the woman <em>–Brienne</em>, his brain latches on to the name, huffs impatiently.</p><p>“You’re not the first to think that, Mr. Lannister. I promise I’m fully capable of delivering an excellent tattoo for you, but feel free to relinquish your deposit to Olenna if you think my abilities are compromised by my sex. ” While he’s certain he’s not about to duck out now, Jaime selfishly allows himself the opportunity to examine his artist as if he <em>is</em> considering walking out the door.</p><p>Brienne certainly is tall, just as her emails had mentioned, but once he’s adjusted to how she’s most likely an inch or two taller than he is, he finds himself appreciating the slight curves created by hidden muscle than anything else. There’s power hidden behind her soft grey and blue flannel shirt, and it’s hard to look respectfully at the thick muscles of her thighs which is probably why Jaime can’t settle on one single thing about her until he meets her eyes.</p><p>Any hope Jaime had at pretending to be standoffish and uncertain about Brienne are lost in the moment he locks eyes with her. The strength he can sense in those solid lines of muscle are shadows to the energy and stability he sees in the steady pools of blue gazing back at him, and even if he wanted to, Jaime is unable to stop himself from opening his mouth.</p><p>“No, I want you. Let’s do this.”</p><p>Jaime’s words earn him a softening of Brienne’s mouth into a half-smile as she glances over his release forms, and Jaime’s focus darts from her eyes to freckles dotted all around her mouth. He can’t help but wonder where else she might have freckles, and then he clears his throat, trying to dismiss the thought.</p><p>
  <em>Get your shit together, Lannister. She’s about to subject you to excruciating agony for the next three hours, for Seven’s sake.</em>
</p><p>“Okay then, let’s get started. Thanks, Olenna.” Brienne hands the clipboard back before turning towards a set of stairs leading down and gestures for Jaime to follow her as Olenna waves them off.</p><p>They descend a staircase into a warmly lit hallway with the same pale lavender on the walls and the occasional sound of buzzing coming from behind the doors that line the corridor. Brienne opens a door with a hand-written sign neatly declaring this room as “B. Tarth”’s.</p><p>“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”</p><p>Inside Brienne’s tattoo studio, Jaime feels tension draining from his shoulders before Brienne has even shut the door behind her. It’s not overly decorated or cluttered, but there are touches everywhere to help him feel settled. Brienne has a cheery lamp shaped like a dolphin next to the tattoo bed, there’s a vase with fake stalks of ivy and pussy-willow next to her artist’s chair, and the ink and still-packaged needles are neatly organized on a steel stand polished to a deep silver shine. Jaime lets out a shaky exhale and grins as Brienne re-enters the studio carrying the stencil of what will be carved into his skin in the next three hours.</p><p>“So. B. Tarth, hmm?” Jaime’s grin broadens when he sees a blush form on her neck, and he’s even more delighted when that’s the only sign Brienne is fazed by his question. She’s been excellent so far at keeping a cool head even as Jaime is being his most irritating, but it’s a delight to coax a blush from her collected demeanor.</p><p>“Not everyone sees me and thinks I’m good at what I do like you did,” she admits. “With the name, I give them a chance to figure out about who I am before they write me off just for being a woman.” Brienne gestures to the tattoo chair, neatly lined with single-use paper. Jaime isn’t surprised at all at the pristine conditions in Brienne’s studio. “Hop up, Mr. Lannister.”</p><p>Jaime obeys, and observes Brienne as she examines her printed stencil.</p><p>“Since you’re about to be sticking a needle into my skin, feel free to call me Jaime. I’d say that puts us on more than even ground, even if on a technical level I am a customer.”</p><p>Brienne smiles her soft smile from before. Although it’s small, the smile seems to fill the whole room with sunshine.</p><p>“I’d say we’re collaborators more than anything else… Jaime.” The pause before she says his name is agony, but there’s that smile again, and suddenly Jaime can’t bring himself to care. “This piece is as much your work as it is mine. Does it still look right?” Jaime looks down at the stencil Brienne is holding out, and takes his attention away from examining her to examining the paper. What he sees nearly takes his breath away.</p><p>
  <em>‘Collaborators’, my ass.</em>
</p><p>Brienne has taken his scribbled attempts at what he wants and transformed it, and Jaime hasn’t ever seen something so beautiful. He’s determined to walk out of here with permanent ink etched into his torso, but his final look at the celestial magic she’s drawn out of nothing solidifies his confidence. Jaime had approved the digital version of his artwork a week ago when he had set the appointment, but there is an unusual intimacy in holding the hand-drawn swirls and whorls of the small galaxy Brienne has crafted.</p><p>“Yeah. That looks damn near perfect. No, not damn near –it <em>is</em> perfect.” The timbre of Jaime’s voice has dropped to a much more husky register than he was intending, and he can’t help but notice that it brings a color high in Brienne’s cheeks.</p><p>“This is your last chance to change it, Jaime. Once you give me the go-ahead, there’s no turning back.” Brienne’s blue eyes are serious, and Jaime’s responding answer is rare in its unchecked honesty.</p><p>“I trust you.”</p><p>Brienne smiles. Jaime knows in a small corner of his mind he’s delusional to call it <em>his</em> smile, but he tells that small corner of his mind to shut up because it’s a lovely smile, and Jaime wants it to be his.</p><p>“Excellent.”</p><p>Brienne holds her hand out and Jaime takes it to seal the deal with a firm handshake. Jaime can feel strength in the fingers that curl around his, and it might be cliché, but he relaxes in the knowledge that he’s in good hands.</p><p>“You can set your jacket and shirt on the stool over there. Which side of your ribs have you decided on?” Brienne is all business as rearranges her inks and needle tips on the top of her equipment cart. Jaime begins to take off his winter layers as he gestures to his left side.</p><p>“I have better flexibility on this side which means I’ll be less likely to fuck up taking care of it while it heals.”</p><p>Brienne nods in approval. Jaime places his scarf and gloves on the stool and is in the middle of folding his jacket when the layout of the room finally sinks in. He won’t be able to see Brienne when she’s tattooing him. His mouth goes dry, and it feels like he can feel his heart beating in his head and fingertips. Rationally, he knows it’s a case of last-minute jitters, but that doesn’t stop him from opening his mouth as he watches Brienne efficiently washing her hands.</p><p>"So… short fingernails, huh?" The words are out before he can stop them, a product of the sudden nervousness making his hands sweaty and clammy at the same time. Brienne looks up at him quizzically, and Jaime thinks he's <em>definitely</em> going to talk himself into getting punched one of these days.</p><p>"Is that supposed to mean something?"</p><p>Jaime coughs as he finishes folding his jacket, throwing a mental litany of curses at his unsteady fingers and his asshole tendencies when he’s feeling unsettled. "It's nothing, it was a ridiculously stupid thing to say." Brienne says nothing and Jaime continues on, resolutely ignoring the voice shouting in his head to shut the fuck up already.</p><p>"Seven hells, I'm sorry. I'm nervous as fuck right now."</p><p>Brienne nods, turning to dry her hands before she pulls out a pair of black neoprene gloves.</p><p>"You're not the first person to run their mouth before they get to my chair, Jaime, but I promise there isn’t much to be nervous about other than some pain and a lot of annoyance. And the short nails are for these." Brienne holds her now glove-clad hand up, and Jaime is surprised into a laugh when she lets go of the edge of the glove for a dramatic snap onto her skin.</p><p>His laugh brings his new favorite slow smile to Brienne's face, and Jaime lets the tension go in his hands and shoulders before reaching over his head to pull off his final layer.</p><p>The dark green henley is an easy fit, and he sees approval in the small quirk of Brienne’s mouth. She had been adamant in one of her follow-up emails about loose clothes during the healing process, and Jaime’s glad to see he chose correctly. For all that they’ve known each other for all of ten minutes, Jaime is starting to adjust to how much he would rather eat dirt than disappoint Brienne.</p><p>Jaime finishes folding his shirt without any flourish and clears his throat. Brienne looks up from her prep station, and Jaime resists the urge to shiver despite the warmth from Brienne’s studio. Those eyes of hers truly are <em>stunning</em>. Yes, the color defies description (Jaime knows all too well he’s no poet), but the color of her eyes is insignificant next to their openness.</p><p> Jaime is no fool; he knows exactly what he looks like, and he knows hungry when he sees it.</p><p>What he finds more surprising is how <em>interested</em> he is in letting Brienne be as hungry as she likes. But before Jaime can say anything, Brienne turns away, taking those soul-searching eyes with her.</p><p>Jaime allows himself a slight shudder before he climbs onto the tattooing chair. It’s wide enough to act like a table, and he turns towards the wall. Brienne has evidence of her expertise tacked to the wall: a variety of sea creatures, portraits, and beautifully rendered flowers. Some are sketches, some are photographs taken in Brienne’s studio, and they all reinforce the message that he’s picked the right person, the right <em>woman</em> for the job.</p><p>Jaime tenses when he feels Brienne’s glove-clad hand placed gently on his bicep and she lets out a soft puff of air. For all that he truly <em>is</em> at ease in this studio, some habits are just too hard to let go of.</p><p>“Jaime, turn towards me for a moment, okay? I want to walk you through what I’ll be doing, and you need to actually <em>see</em> for me to do that.” Her voice is low and soothing, and Jaime relaxes as he twists around to face Brienne.</p><p>Her eyes hold a ghost of a smile and she walks him through the tattoo machine (“We don’t call it a gun since it looks more like a steampunk quill than a firearm” Jaime remembers laughing at the email she had sent informing him of his grievous error), the inks, and the different tips she’ll be using. She’s efficient in her miniature lecture on the equipment, but Jaime doesn’t feel left behind in the dust of her explanations. She turns back to him, and gestures for him to raise his arm. Her hands hover over his ribs.</p><p>“We’re going to start outlining the tattoo here,” On the word 'here', Brienne’s fingers brush against his lower rib. Jaime concentrates on the feather-light sensation, and he can feel his heartbeat in his head again.</p><p>“You have a healthy layer of fat and muscle protecting your ribs down here, and it’ll help you become adjusted to the pain. This <em>will</em> hurt, but it will feel more like a cat’s kneading at your skin versus someone slowly peeling your skin back.” Jaime nods, and Brienne considers him for a moment before moving her hand up his side to the top rib.</p><p>“This is where it’s going to hurt the most. We don’t have a lot protecting our ribs towards the top, so there’s a high probability this is where the pain is going to feel unbearable.” Brienne pauses, and Jaime glances up at her.</p><p>“Your instinct is going to be to get away from me, or to start breathing heavily. I need you to fight that instinct. Slow breaths only, and if you need a break, you tell me the moment you need it. Not two seconds after. If you can’t promise to do that right now, Olenna will refund half your deposit and you’ll leave.”</p><p>Brienne’s hand is warm on his torso as Jaime pays her the respect of fully considering her instructions, and he nods once before replying. “I understand. I’m in.”</p><p>Brienne doesn’t quite smile, but Jaime sees her eyes crinkle with pleasure at his answer.</p><p>“Okay. Roll over.” She pulls her hand away, and Jaime rolls back onto his side, lifting his arm for her to apply the tattoo stencil on his ribs. It’s cold for a moment, but quickly removed. Brienne holds a mirror up for him to examine the placement.</p><p>“Everything lining up where you want it?”</p><p>Jaime grins at her through the mirror. “Let’s do this.”</p><p>Brienne smiles back and he hears her tuck the mirror away.</p><p>“I’m about to turn the machine on, Jaime.” Brienne informs him, and shortly after, a buzzing sound fills the room. It’s quieter than Jaime expected. Not that it’s <em>quiet</em>, but it’s also not the sound of doom he anticipated.</p><p>Brienne touches his ribs again lightly, and Jaime closes his eyes. The needle hits his skin, and Jaime’s eyes fly open. He can feel pressure from the tips of Brienne’s fingers pressing into his skin, and the buzzing tattoo machine really does feel like a cat is making a home on his skin, but it’s not unpleasant. Sure, it’s no field of daisies either, but he has a moment of understanding for the people who become addicted to the sensation.</p><p>Brienne’s hands are gentle on his skin, and Jaime’s turns his attention to the discordant feeling of her fingers splayed tenderly on his lower abdomen and the prodding needle digging into his skin. She has a dry paper towel in the hand not wielding the needle, and Jaime finds himself breathing in every time she soothes his skin as she wipes away excess ink from his torso. Her movements are smooth and practiced, pacifying the last of Jaime’s nerves.</p><p>Brienne pulls the needle away after applying a few lines, and Jaime takes a deep breath.</p><p>“How are you doing?”</p><p>Brienne’s voice is a warm blanket over his bare skin, and Jaime lets out his deep breath on a slow exhale. “I’m good. You’re right, it’s not nearly as bad as I imagined.” Brienne’s huff of laughter reaches his ears right as the tattoo machine starts up again, and Jaime relaxes again as the sound of a paper towel ripping blend in with the buzzing from the machine.</p><p>Jaime’s thoughts wander over the next few minutes as Brienne continues to outline her way up her ribs making slow and careful strokes with the needle. About ten minutes in, Jaime feels dizzy and remembers his promise.</p><p>“Brienne.”</p><p>Immediately, the tattoo machine stops and Brienne pulls away from him. Despite the unsettling fuzziness of his thoughts, he misses the pressure of her hands on his skin.</p><p>“Talk to me, Jaime.” Her voice is firm, sinking in through the fog; Jaime finds himself leaning into her strong hands coaxing him to roll onto his back.</p><p>“I-uh… I feel dizzy.” Brienne is back in Jaime’s field of vision now, and he struggles to focus on anything until she places a finger under his chin and his eyes lock in on hers, calm and beautiful.</p><p>“That, Mr. Lannister, would be the adrenaline rush I warned you about.” She cracks a crooked grin at Jaime, and he grimaces. Brienne lets out a peal of laughter when he frowns, and it softens his irritation.</p><p>“I thought I’d be the exception to the rule,” Jaime protests weakly, and Brienne snorts before disappearing from view for a moment.</p><p>“Everyone does. Here.” She hands him a bottle of water, and Jaime accepts it, sitting up slowly to avoid another rush of dizziness.</p><p>“I’m going to take a little bit of a walk, give you about ten minutes or so to bring your heart-rate down. Don’t try to move too much too soon, and don’t even think about trying to stand until you’ve finished off that whole bottle of water, okay?” Brienne waits by his side until Jaime nods. Jaime hears the door shut quietly behind Brienne and he flops back down onto the tattoo chair with a groan.</p><p>Jaime takes small sips from the water bottle before attempting to sit up again, and he glances over that the full-length mirror across from him.</p><p>There’s a slight gleam of sweat beginning to form on his temple from the marathon his body thinks it’s being asked to run, and Jaime wipes it away before twisting to see the beginning outline of his tattoo, and he’s already pleased to see evidence Brienne’s artistry with pen and paper translates to ink and skin.</p><p>
  <em>I should send Robb Stark a fruit basket.</em>
</p><p>Not that he <em>actually</em> will (Stark would probably think he’d poisoned it and throw it away anyways), but what had started out as just spite has transformed into something genuinely promising. The work of art Brienne is etching into his skin isn’t something he’ll regret, especially since it’s <em>Brienne</em> doing the tattooing, and that’s something Jaime wasn’t prepared for in the slightest.</p><p>Jaime looks away from his reflection, taking another sip of water as he lets his focus drift from the various images Brienne has filled the studio with. Every one of them sets him more at ease, and Jaime pauses in the middle of his sip because he isn’t used to that <em>at all.</em></p><p>There’s a photo on Brienne’s desk of her in graduation robes, and she’s blushing as an older man –her father, most likely- leaning down to kiss her on the cheek. It makes Jaime smile, and he’s okay admitting that Brienne is responsible for that feeling of peace. He doesn’t feel at home with his family or his coworkers, but in all of a half hour with Brienne, he feels safer than he has his whole life.</p><p><em>I’d do just about anything she asked me to.</em> Jaime laughs to himself, in wonder at the realization, and a quiet corner of his mind holds tight to that thought.</p><p>The room suddenly feels warmer.</p><p><em>Anything?</em> That small, quiet corner of his mind prods at him.</p><p>Jaime is startled at the soft knock before Brienne walks through the door, and it feels like he’s meeting her again for the first time because now all he can think is <em>yes, anything </em>and that’s now morphing into <em>gods, anything and everything</em> and Brienne’s back in the room and Jaime can’t stop <em>looking</em> at her.</p><p>Yes, he’s appreciated her strength and her skill up to this point, and yes, it’s even taken his breath away, but now his brain is providing images to go with that admiration, and oh <em>fuck</em> is he in trouble.</p><p>Brienne has shucked off the flannel shirt she had been wearing when they started, and Jaime feels lightheaded all over again. Brienne is <em>strong.</em> Her arms look like they could lift a car off him and then pin him against a wall, and now that Brienne is in just a tank top, he can finally see those firm muscles of hers are decorated with tattoos. She has gorgeous sleeves of stars, waves, and a filigreed compass in brilliant pinks and blues all down her arms, in a style that makes Jaime imagine Brienne slinging ropes over her shoulder on the deck of a pirate ship.</p><p><em>Gods, the things she could do with rope. </em>There are flashes in his mind of rough twine around his wrists and Brienne biting her own possessive mark right below where they twist around his skin before he realizes Brienne has cleared her throat.</p><p> Jaime takes a final swig of his water bottle, trying to prevent himself from outright offering himself up to her for plundering, and waves the empty bottle in triumph.</p><p>“How’s your head?” Brienne looks concerned, and Jaime honestly can’t blame her for her worried tone. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He has a flush in his cheeks that’s spread down to his belly, and he’s really grateful Brienne’s instruction to wear loose clothing mean his jeans are hiding a growing… problem.</p><p>Jaime coughs slightly, forcing himself to stop ogling his artist, and tries to channel his most Lannister-like nonchalance. “Much better. I’m ready when you are.”</p><p>Brienne gestures for him to lay back down, and Jaime complies willingly, taking a deep breath as he rolls to face the wall again. No amount of deep breathing is going to stop the pressure he feels in his cock or the flashes of pleasurable scenarios playing out in his imagination. Once the tattoo machine is buzzing again, Jaime tries his best to focus on the sound and not how he can feel just how long Brienne’s fingers are as she presses the needle into his skin.</p><p><em>It’s fine, it’s fine, you’re </em>fine<em>, Jaime. Just keep breathing, and you can rub one out at home without anyone the wiser. </em></p><p>This becomes Jaime’s mantra as the needle in Brienne’s hand begins once more to draw on his skin. He doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable, so he’s going to focus on anything except for the lethal woman holding him down right now. The pain is still a heady rush of pleasure and pain, but Jaime’s got enough of his attention focused in on his unfortunate erection to keep from drifting away on the adrenaline picking back up.</p><p>The next hour passes quietly, and soon Jaime and Brienne have fallen into some form of a routine. The machine stops every few minutes or so while Brienne rips off a fresh paper towel for the ink, checks to make sure Jaime is still okay, and reminds him to keep breathing. Jaime’s routine is to listen to her, and try to ignore the half-mast he can’t seem to rid himself of.</p><p>“Try” being the operative word, since every time Jaime replies to her queries on his wellbeing, Brienne hums in satisfaction with his answer. He’s only human, and Brienne’s voice is encased in velvet.</p><p>
  <em>At least she can’t see you, thank fuck.</em>
</p><p>Brienne pauses at the halfway mark and reminds Jaime that she’s about to get to his upper ribs and to be prepared for more pain. Jaime thinks for a second that he’s prepared for the sensation, and then the needle crosses over the actual bone and Jaime winces in pain.</p><p> Even though every instinct in Jaime’s body is to huff through the feeling of having his bone slowly pulled out through its marrow, he locks into Brienne’s hand on his torso and releases his breath in a slow hiss. He can feel the paper towel drop out of Brienne’s hand, and in another moment, her long fingers and broad palm are pressing into his hip. He can feel every inch of her grip through the slight tension beginning to form in the pads of her fingers, and it takes every last remaining ounce of willpower not to groan at how he can feel her strength in the slight pull to his skin.</p><p>“That’s <em>very</em> good, Jaime.”</p><p>Brienne’s voice is soft, but just like the hint of strength in the tips of her fingers, he can easily imagine what her voice might sound like with his mouth pinned between her legs.</p><p><em>Fuck, if her hands are this strong-</em> He can’t even finish the thought because no thoughts can exist with the visual of Brienne astride his mouth; nothing exists except the growing need he feels in his blood to hear her whimper how good he’s being.</p><p>
  <em>Fuck.</em>
</p><p>It’s Brienne who breaks the tension first, releasing Jaime’s hip, and reaching for a fresh paper towel. Jaime feels a rush of appreciation for her stubborn professionalism, but he also relishes when she speaks again, and he can hear a harsh edge of want hidden behind her return to business.</p><p>“Okay. I-I’m going to finish up the outline on your upper ribs, and then we’ve just got some shading and detailing left.” Jaime doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he nods and does his level best to remember how to breathe again.</p><p>Something happens in the last hour of Brienne’s detail work on his tattoo. Jaime is still paying attention to his breathing, but it almost happens in a separate corner of his mind. At the forefront of his thoughts is what feels like a deep ocean of feeling. It feels as if he is trembling, like he can feel the molecules in the sweat that runs down his neck, like he has the freedom to do and feel however he wants with no interference, and Jaime finds he has just enough self-control to luxuriate in this transcendence without moaning at the rushing sensations. There is a tender feeling swirling through all of this that he is falling, but he feels like Brienne is strong enough to catch him.</p><p>Jaime finds himself inhaling sharply when Brienne’s hands leave him, but he faintly hears her clear voice murmuring, “All done” and he doesn’t have to feel bereft for too long as he rolls towards her voice. Soon his vision is flooded with blue.</p><p>
  <em>Those eyes…</em>
</p><p>The world comes back into focus slowly. Brienne is grinning down at him, thin tendrils of her wispy blonde hair plastered to her forehead and neck with sweat, and Jaime feels a shiver run down his spine with how she seems to glow with triumph. Brienne pulls out a set of tattoo wipes to gently dab at the residual ink mixed with beads of blood  before she removes her gloves and offers him her hand.</p><p>“Want to see?”</p><p>Jaime takes her hand without hesitation, and she leads him over to the mirror, flipping a switch to fill this corner of the room with light. Jaime examines the tattoo in the mirror, and he’s overwhelmed with how perfectly it’s imprinted into his skin. The outline of their planet is falling apart at the seams as it falls into a swirling, beautiful black hole, only to emerge on the other side. It’s not made whole from the transition, but has formed into something new and beautiful.</p><p>Jaime coughs, trying to ignore a pricking at his eyes. <em>Smith’s dick, get your shit together, man. </em></p><p>“It’s magnificent. Thank you, Brienne. You’re incredible.”</p><p>Brienne flushes at his compliment and Jaime reaches out to grab her wrist as she turns away from the mirror. She arches a brow at him, but she does allow him to stop her.</p><p>“I mean it. I think you’re incredible.”</p><p>The flush deepens, and Jaime notices it spreads down to her collarbones.</p><p>
  <em>Seven hells, what I’d give for her to let me bite her there.</em>
</p><p>Jaime knows there’s still the fire of that thought in his eyes when his gaze meets Brienne’s, and she inhales sharply. Jaime still has her wrist caught in his hand, and he can feel goosebumps on her skin.</p><p>“It takes two for a good tattoo. You were a great canvas, Jaime.” Brienne pauses, and Jaime nearly falls over when he sees her eyes darken. “You’re magnificent.”</p><p>Jaime doesn’t know how those simple words in Brienne’s even tone can have such a marked effect on him, but he’s not about to complain about it. Brienne clears her throat, and Jaime finally releases her wrist, albeit with great reluctance.</p><p>“We need to get that covered, and I’ll walk you through your aftercare.” Brienne has a new set of gloves on, and pulls out plastic wrap to cover his fresh ink. Brienne brings the plastic wrap over to him and kneels to apply it to the new tattoo as she walks him through how long the wrap should stay on and how to prevent infection. Once the plastic wrap’s taped gingerly to his side, she looks up at him. Jaime can feel his pulse in each new line of ink now etched into his skin as Brienne slides her hands away from him.</p><p>“So. What now?” Jaime’s voice is soft. He doesn’t want to break this delicate balance between them, both of them hungry for more than a professional handshake and goodbye. Brienne looks like she’d like nothing better than to disrupt that balance, but she sighs, and Jaime tries not to feel completely kicked to the curb as Brienne finishes listing his aftercare instructions.</p><p>“And finally, no strenuous physical activity for the next four weeks, not until your new baby is completely healed.” Brienne taps the skin next to his tattoo to emphasize her point before she pushes herself up from her knees, turning away to a small desk in the corner of her studio. She bends over it, and Jaime catches a flash of more ink on Brienne’s back. His mind is racing, trying to land on the magic turn of phrase that means she’ll let him stay and examine each swirl of color and shadow she has marked into her skin. He’s almost completely settled on telling her <em>Fuck the no strenuous activity, and while you’re at it, maybe fuck me too? </em>but before he can open his mouth, Brienne turns back to him, holding a small business card.</p><p>“I’m a stickler for making sure my work heals properly, Jaime.” He watches her fingers fiddle with the card in hesitation before she holds it out. “Call me? If you have any questions.” Jaime takes the card. He’ll enjoy how it slides through her fingers in his dreams later tonight, but he’s resigned to accept the signals Brienne is too professional to throw him into her tattoo chair and ride him until he sees stars.</p><p>He smiles with no little amount of wistfulness, pulling on his clothes, ready to walk out the door with no hard feelings, and then Brienne speaks one last time as reaches the door.</p><p>“My personal number’s on the back.”</p><p>Jaime’s whole body is on fire.</p><p>
  <em>Fuck.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>For a visual on what I was imagining for Jaime's tattoo (only... his is on his ribs instead of his arm):<br/></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Brienne might be stubborn about no strenuous activity for the next three weeks, but that doesn't mean they can't talk, right? And talking can be... <i>fun</i>.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you all SO much for your lovely response to the first chapter AND for your patience as I got the next installment ready. Turns out I needed a bit longer to get Brienne's POV sorted out for myself, and I hope you enjoy the result!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s been two minutes since Jaime Lannister walked out of Brienne’s studio, and she’s still standing in a daze by her small desk. The remaining vestiges of Brienne’s rational mind are scolding her, reminding her that she should be cleaning and sanitizing her equipment, but she’s too busy being stunned at her own courage in the small act of handing Jaime her personal number, knowing exactly what she wanted him to do with that number, knowing she’s never done that with a former client before, and doing it anyway. Brienne absentmindedly rubs the anchor etched into her right arm, trying to figure out what in the seven hells just happened.</p><p>Brienne had been startled when she had first seen Jaime’s name in her inbox. The Lannister name is infamous in both the gossip of King’s Landing <em>and</em> in the hallways of the Inked Thorn. Olenna Tyrell is infamous in her own right as being one of the few landowners in the city to have told Tywin Lannister “no” to selling her property, holding onto her three businesses in the heart of the city for the past thirty years with a stubbornness Brienne still marvels at even after their own seven year history together.</p><p>Jaime is notorious as well, not only for his public repudiation of his father early in his career, but also for the way his name has been volleyed back and forth in the corporate field for the past decade. The day before Jaime’s first email, Brienne had seen one of the magazines in their lobby flipped open to a page soliciting bets on how long his tenure with the Stark Family Trust would last, and she had snorted in surprise to see his name glowing up at her from her laptop screen twenty-four hours later.</p><p>Brienne’s no stranger to drunken requests for her expertise, and Jaime’s email is filled with the hazy edge of a night out spent sipping burning liquid in crowded halls filled with a dingy golden light. Brienne almost deletes it without a response, but the final lines of Jaime’s email causes her to pause. “I want to hold on to something permanent, even if it’s only ever just for me. I think you can make that happen.” Brienne reaches out, wishing for something more tangible than her computer screen to touch when she reads it. Those words should be manifested in blood and ink, and before she knows what’s happening, she’s reaching for her sketchbook to bring life to the description in Jaime’s email, and she sends the rough image off to him before she’s had more than a sip of her morning coffee.</p><p>Jaime’s emails aren’t poetry, but Jaime’s refreshing self-awareness makes Brienne return to their email exchange again and again throughout the week before Jaime’s appointment is confirmed. There’s a healthy respect for one another, even as their respective stubborn natures lock horns every so often.</p><p><em>The ribs are a tender place in general, most people opt for a less painful place like the arm or the leg for their first tattoo. </em>She had written to Jaime after he had claimed that was the only place he could possibly see the ink belonging to. His response had made Brienne snort at her computer.</p><p>
  <em>Sorry, Tarth. I’m not like most people. </em>
</p><p>She had stopped trying to change his mind after that, and from there it had been a matter of waiting for the handsome Lannister man to arrive for his appointment in between casual glances at his confirmation email and the clock.</p><p>When Jaime had arrived and Brienne realized he hadn’t clocked she was a woman, she had been prepared to be the bigger person and ignore her irritation at his initial rudeness. She would be focused only on getting him in and out of the chair as soon as possible, professional enough to get a decent review on the web, but Jaime had surprised her and apologized almost immediately. Once they were behind closed doors, he had been… <em>honorable</em> when respecting her authority in her studio.</p><p>She had liked that.</p><p>A lot.</p><p>Brienne’s no stranger to tattooing beautiful people, but she’s also learned that a pretty face never guarantees an easy session in the chair. Every person she works on has the potential to be glorious, and she’s determined to honor the trust her canvasses put in her. That doesn’t stop her from blushing as she recalls how much she had enjoyed just <em>looking</em> at Jaime when he had taken his shirt off in her studio.</p><p>Brienne’s hands flex. She had held Jaime’s skin taut, but there’s so much of him she wishes she had been able to learn in their three hours together. He’s not sculpted by the gods, there’s a beautiful blend of sharp and soft in the contours of his flesh that practically screams out <em>human</em> to her eyes, and the gods wouldn’t let their creation be marred by a jagged appendix scar or the edges of sunburn on his angular nose. Brienne can’t help but wish he didn’t have those all-too-human imperfections; it might be easier to explain away her heart pounding if she could blame it on an avatar of the Warrior instead of the man she had held down only minutes ago. She shivers at that memory. He had let her <em>pin </em>him, and had looked at her like <em>she</em> was the one sent from the heavens.</p><p>Jaime had taken her words to heart like a veteran in the tattoo chair rather than the tenderfoot he really was. Minus the nerves that had made him mouthy before the first pass of the machine, Jaime had been <em>amazing</em>, and Brienne had loved every second working on him. It had been almost soothing to have him under her hands, up until the moment it had become electric.</p><p>Brienne had frozen when Jaime winced; for all of her careful instructions before their session, Brienne wasn’t about to risk her work on a belief that her words could override a body’s natural instincts. She couldn’t breathe when she heard Jaime’s exhale in a slow and careful hiss. The praise had slipped past her lips and despite only having a small fraction of his profile in view, Brienne had been witness to the hollow of his throat tensing when her fingers had pressed into the soft flesh above his hip-bone. Her grip had been the only thing keeping her from biting that tendon until she heard Jaime hiss again.</p><p>It had taken all her self-control to turn her focus back to the tattoo instead of giving into her impulse to scrape her teeth down from the tendon in his neck to the untouched skin over his ribcage. She had wanted nothing more than to continue down the soft flesh of his belly to find out just how quickly she could undo the button of his dark jeans. Judging from the look on Jaime’s face when she handed him her card with her cell number scrawled on the back, he would have let her.</p><p>Brienne shakes her head, finally turning to the dull work of cleaning and sanitizing her equipment. The sooner she’s done cleaning her space, the sooner she can check her phone and see if Jaime will take what she’s offering. Brienne isn’t used to making the first move, but she’s not about to let bacteria fester in her studio obsessing over her phone. Brienne might be a strong woman, but she knows Olenna would manage to find a way to take her head off if a client walked out of here with a staph infection.</p><p>Brienne’s patience is rewarded when she steps out of her studio and finally pulls out her phone. There’s a series of messages from an unknown number, and Brienne flushes despite the cold air as she walks towards her apartment.</p><p>
  <em>Unknown: This is Jaime</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Unknown: Don’t go forgetting me, Brienne. I know I don’t want to forget you</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Unknown: [image attached]</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Unknown: Been grinning like this since I left, figured it’s a good pic for you to save in your phone with my name</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Unknown: That’s my subtle way of hoping you’ll add my number to your phone, Brienne</em>
</p><p>Brienne grins through her blush as she notices the timestamp on the sent messages. Jaime had taken all of three minutes to wait before sending her those messages along with a picture with his sharp jaw and strong nose beaming directly into the lens at her. Brienne’s inhale is shaky as she messages him back.</p><p>
  <em>Brienne: Not a chance I’ll forget you. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Brienne: Like I said… you’re magnificent.</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>It’s been a week, and Brienne still feels overwhelmed each time her phone buzzes and Jaime’s face appears on the screen. Jaime starts each day with a progress photo of his healing tattoo, and once Brienne trains her expert eye over the still-healing ink, she finds herself spending just as much time relishing the way her body seems to vibrate at the way Jaime lets himself be open with her. It’s not <em>just</em> that he’s literally baring his skin to her; he’s never once asked her to respect his trust and keep those photos to herself. Brienne knows she wouldn’t, but it’s exhilarating to see Jaime trust her like this all the same.</p><p>Jaime is in his bedroom posing in the mirror with his arms stretched out as the sun brushes against his skin through an unseen window in this morning’s photo, and the furrow in Brienne’s brow soon vanishes as she confirms the skin is continuing to heal nicely. She’s about a block away from her apartment when she sends him a message back with her praise.</p><p>
  <em>Brienne: You’ve done a great job taking care of it this first week… I’m impressed.</em>
</p><p>There’s a tension in each of their messages; Brienne knows that it’s the same electricity that had followed her home last week, it’s the same electricity that had her tossing back and forth in her bed before reaching over to dig out a few toys from her nightstand, but so far it’s been just that: a tension on the edge of their texts. Nothing explicit other than heavily-loaded flirting has emerged from their texts.</p><p>
  <em>Jaime: I like knowing I’ve impressed you.</em>
</p><p>Brienne pauses in mid-step, blushing at the message on the street outside her apartment, and before she has a chance to reply, her phone buzzes twice more. <em>So much for an unspoken tension.</em></p><p>
  <em>Jaime: I like knowing that a lot.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Jaime: Is that okay to say? I wanted us to get to know each other a little before I said that. I can’t wait three weeks to tell you how much I’m thinking about you, even if I have to wait those three weeks for this ink to heal.</em>
</p><p>Brienne takes in the second message with a pleased bite of her lip, and she sends him a quick affirming message before taking the stairs two at a time to get to her apartment as fast as she can. She’s just barely put the key in when her phone starts to vibrate again, only this time it’s not a text message.</p><p><em>“Jaime Lannister is calling” </em>flashes up on her phone screen and she hurries to answer as her door swings shut behind her.</p><p>“Hello?” Brienne answers the phone a little breathlessly.</p><p>“Hey. Felt like talking about this on the phone and not through text, if that’s okay.” Jaime’s voice is pleasant on the other side, and Brienne closes her eyes to let it wash over her. The past week of imagining the beautiful rumble of his voice whispering against her skin pales in comparison to the real thing, even as it’s filtered through the cellphone speaker.</p><p>“Smart. Another thing I like about you.” Brienne grins as she hears a shaky, slow exhale on Jaime’s side of the phone.</p><p>“I can’t tell you how much I like hearing that.”</p><p>Brienne settles onto her couch, kicking her shoes off as she cradles the phone close to her ear. “I –ah. I got that impression.” Brienne isn’t one to mince words, but even after her years working with Olenna Tyrell and her devotion to saying exactly what she thinks, Brienne finds herself stumbling a little on how to tell Jaime just how much she likes him enjoying her just as she is. <em>Yes, I saw how much you liked hearing me tell you how good you were, and I felt your skin heating up when I gripped you tightly, and yes, I would like very much to do it again, please and thank you.</em></p><p>Brienne is about to open her mouth and say exactly that and damn any awkwardness when Jaime chuckles, and all thoughts fly from her head. Instead, she stretches out on her couch like a contented cat in a sunbeam, just enjoying the way his laugh sinks into her spine.</p><p>“And you still gave me your card. Sounds like you <em>liked</em> the impression you got from me.” Brienne licks her lips as her mouth suddenly goes dry. Jaime’s voice is lethal enough on its own, but it’s a nuclear weapon when he’s being playful like this. <em>Game on, Lannister.</em></p><p>“I did like it.” Brienne’s voice is firm even as she smiles into the late morning sunshine streaming into her apartment, and she relaxes to let her voice drop low into her chest. Her next words are soft as she hears a strangled sound on the other side, and she rolls her shoulders luxuriously at Jaime’s reaction. “I liked it a lot, Jaime.” Brienne doesn’t hesitate; this moment is different than when she offered him her card. “I was hoping you might want to get dinner when your tattoo is fully healed.”</p><p>Jaime pauses for a moment on the other side, but Brienne is patient. Jaime’s told her he likes her, for Seven’s sake, and Brienne left her childhood insecurities behind her long ago. She can wait.</p><p>“I genuinely don’t know if I’d make it to dinner if I’m fully healed, Brienne.”</p><p>Brienne nearly drops the phone at the promise and the need in Jaime’s voice, and she shivers with a breathy laugh.</p><p>“I suppose we’ll find out one way or another in two weeks, but I’d like to think you could impress me with how well you’re able to wait.” Brienne presses her legs together as Jaime lets out a strangled sound on the other end. “You wanted us to get to know one another, so let’s get to know one another.” Jaime lets out a frustrated groan, but Brienne’s laugh is cut short as she hears Jaime take a deep breath and let it out slowly, and Brienne’s knows all too well where he picked up <em>that</em> particular tic. <em>Oh, you bastard. </em>Brienne almost growls at him before Jaime cuts her off with a chagrined laugh.</p><p>“As my lady commands.” Brienne snorts at Jaime’s pained tone, and she relaxes once more into the battered cushions of her couch.</p><p>Brienne fondly regales him with tales of her best friend turned college girlfriend turned surprisingly reliable pen-pal, and Jaime commiserates with her on the perils of becoming friends with an ex, speaking fondly about his last relationship with a childhood friend that has mainly transitioned to affectionate insults texted back and forth between the two men. Jaime laughs with her as he realizes the last nice thing Addam’s said to him was about her tattoo, and Brienne finds herself rhapsodizing about her love of tattooing. She’s in the middle of telling Jaime all about Tarth’s ancient tradition of tattoos and her drive to bring it back to prominence on mainland Westeros when her stomach growls loud enough for the phone’s microphone to pick up, and they both laugh.</p><p>“As much as I don’t want to be responsible…” Brienne trails off, and Jaime shares another of his beautiful laughs with her.</p><p>“You just are. I get it!” he says with a chuckle, “It’s why we’re on the phone right now, and not skipping lunch, Brienne.”</p><p> Brienne’s eyes close at the earnest way Jaime says her name, and she lets out a soft sigh. There’s a delicate and easy peace nestled somewhere under her sternum, and she presses against it with her free hand.</p><p>“Keep impressing me, and I’ll be happy to share some more time with you.” She’s hiding a satisfied grin when she hears the sharp intake of breath on the other side. When Jaime speaks, his voice is rough and high with restraint.</p><p>“Deal.”</p>
<hr/><p>Jaime has been beautifully diligent over the past few days with his status updates, and Brienne finds herself flushed at each of the morning updates he sends on his healing artwork. She’s resigned at this point to her complete lack of immunity to Jaime’s shit-eating grin in each shirtless photo, and she responds just as diligently that he looks good, and she’s glad the tattoo is healing nicely. Every time she does, she can feel that glorious tension along the ridges of her teeth, making her want to bite something, <em>anything</em>, to soothe it.</p><p>She’s reeling all day when Jaime turns diligence into a challenge with the photo from this morning.</p><p>In this one, his arm is lifted to show off his healing tattoo, he’s wearing a snug pair of gray leggings, and there’s a sheen of sweat on his exposed skin. Brienne thinks for a split second she’s safe from melting into the pavement when she glances at Jaime’s other hand, resting against his leg. Only he’s not just resting his hand against his leg, he’s gripping his thigh, fingers digging into fabric, and his palm is dangerously close to what can only be the outline of his cock pressing against the fitted leggings. Brienne gasps sharply, and she digs her fingers into her jacket pocket to keep from making a truly obscene noise on the street on her walk to work. She takes a slow break before typing a message back to Jaime, in all his glorious decadence.</p><p>
  <em>Brienne: That looks like you’re being very good, Jaime.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Jaime: I am, Brienne. Very restrained rn </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Brienne: I’m impressed. </em>
</p><p>Brienne hesitates for less than a second, less time than she had hesitated before giving Jaime her phone number, before she quickly follows that with a third text.</p><p>
  <em>Brienne: Do you have time tonight to find out just how impressed I am?</em>
</p><p>Brienne’s fairly certain Jaime will understand, and she doesn’t have time to worry about any mixed messages because there’s a steady stream of texts from Jaime within seconds of her message sending.</p><p>
  <em>Jaime: duck</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Jaime: **FUCK</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Jaime: Ducking autocorrect, but fuck</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Jaime: ok fine correct one but don’t correct the other w/e</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Jaime: sorry I’m yelling at my phone so I can at least pretend I’m keeping my cool like an adult</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Jaime: because if you mean what I think you mean, duck yes</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Jaime: FUCK yes</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Jaime: That’s both for extra emphasis and to tell my phone to fuck off</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Jaime: How has this phone not yet learned I type fuck more often than any other word?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Jaime: Have I scared you off yet?</em>
</p><p>Brienne is laughing at Jaime’s enthusiasm even as she shivers at how his evident excitement sinks into her spine.</p><p>
  <em>Brienne: I don’t scare easily. </em>
</p><p>Brienne bites her lip as that earns her another texted expletive from Jaime, and she has to remind herself she has a whole day of work ahead of her, a reminder she sends to Jaime before she shuts off her phone to get through the day and the three separate tattoo sessions she has ahead of her.</p><p>Brienne’s skin feels like it’s buzzing by the time she passes Olenna to walk home at the end of the day, and she wrinkles her nose when the excitement isn’t enough to erase the sweat and the strain in her neck. She texts Jaime that she needs a little time to recover from work, and his response sends another shiver down her spine.</p><p>
  <em>Jaime: You could always call me from the bath, you know. Power of modern technology right at your fingertips, Brienne.</em>
</p><p>Brienne’s intake of breath is sharp at the sly text from Jaime, and she nods once to herself before texting Jaime a simple “<em>alright”</em> in response. Before she knows it, she’s up the stairs and through the door of her apartment, stripping off layers in her bathroom.</p><p>Brienne’s main source of indulgence is her bathtub and the supplies that she splurges on to accompany it. She’s had many a friend frown at her stubborn attachment to the small studio apartment she calls home, but she has no problem ignoring them as she indulges in the old-fashioned, claw-foot tub big enough for her long limbs to clamber into. No other apartment in the city has a tub she can feel the water up to her shoulders after a long day straining over a sweaty canvas, and Brienne’s not about to lose that tiny luxury.</p><p>She makes quick work of the rest of her clothes, tossing them in the hamper as she rubs herself down with a wet hand-towel to remove the worst of the sweat from her body before running the water for her bath. As the tub fills, Brienne hesitates for a moment before darting out to her bedroom to pull two items from her nightstand.</p><p>
  <em>“Power of modern technology right at your fingertips” indeed.</em>
</p><p>Brienne looks down at the purple silicone and the small bottle of lubricant in her hand, feeling giddy. For all the flirting and the tension so thick she’s pretty sure she could tattoo it between her and Jaime, the reality of what she’s about to do doesn’t seem to really set in until she’s holding the sex toy in one hand and the lube in the other. She’s about to get off on the phone with <em>Jaime</em>, and she can feel her whole abdomen tighten at the thought.</p><p>Knowing Jaime is waiting, and knowing <em>just</em> how patient he’s been all day, Brienne doesn’t bother to spend time worrying about anything else. The water’s finally at a perfect level, and she steps carefully into the tub, placing her phone on the small bathroom caddy next to it. Brienne sits on the edge of the porcelain as she taps on the screen to call Jaime, the water lapping at her thighs. She glances down and blushes when she sees how the cool air has her freckles standing out starkly against her goose-fleshed skin, but Jaime answers before she hangs up the phone from any residual self-consciousness.</p><p>“Hey.” Brienne shudders when she hears Jaime’s voice again. His voice had dipped low a few times during their call a few days ago, but this is deliberate, and her response is half a sigh as she quickly switches to speakerphone.</p><p>“Hello, Jaime.”</p><p>She can hear him shifting on the other side of the phone. Brienne is clinging to the edge of the tub as if she’s gripping his hip all over again, and that lovely feeling of peace warms her chest, sending any and all uncertainties out the window. Jaime is on the other side of the phone, and she trusts him just as he trusts her.</p><p>“Were you good today?” Her voice is echo-y against the hard surfaces of the bathroom, and she blushes knowing she’s about to echo a <em>lot</em> louder.</p><p>Jaime’s breathing is audible on the other line, but she’s incredibly pleased at how even it is. “I was.” Jaime’s reply is only a little bit shaky, and Brienne sighs again.</p><p>“Very good, Jaime.” Brienne bites her lip against a sheepish grin, and turns towards the phone. “I-um. I’ve never done this over the phone.” There’s a shift on the other side, and she can hear the smile in Jaime’s voice when he responds.</p><p>“I haven’t either. But right now I’m hard and naked, and I can hear the water every time you move, so I’m willing to figure it out as we go along.” Brienne bites her lip and lets out a moan. The need in Jaime’s voice betrays the ease in which he tells Brienne he’s naked, and she runs a wet hand up her leg, her toes curling as she feels tiny water droplets streaking down her flesh.</p><p>“I’d love it if you told me what to do next, Brienne.” Jaime’s voice is breathy even as it’s ridiculously, annoyingly polite, and Brienne’s breathing is decidedly uneven when she slides her free hand down her torso, her palm skimming the soft flesh of her belly, urged on by the hint of how wrecked Jaime wants to be.</p><p>“I want you to start by keeping your hands to yourself, Jaime…” Brienne bites her lip as she hears his groan of frustrated pleasure on the other side. “Tell me how you’d keep my attention if I had your hands pinned above your head.”</p><p>Hearing Jaime moan through the speaker of the phone dismisses any remaining doubt from that last corner of Brienne’s mind, and she hums in pleasure at how destroyed he sounds already. Jaime’s voice is rough, and she can hear him shifting in frustration on the other end. They haven’t actually planned anything beyond the exchanges of texts and calls, but Brienne knows she’s going to be able to do this in just a little over a week, and the image of Jaime’s hands flexed under hers makes her feel lightheaded as the water tickles the back of her knees.</p><p>“Brienne, I’ve wanted you sitting on my face since before I left your studio. I wanted you to pin me, and I wanted those thighs of yours pressed against my jaw. I want to have you pressed against my tongue, I want to have to gasp for air, and I want you to keep me pinned against your cunt until you can’t speak.” The words out of Jaime’s mouth are filthy, and Brienne gasps as she slides a hand in between her legs. She’s <em>soaking</em> from Jaime’s words, and she whimpers as she spreads her legs wide, teasing her inner thigh with the toy in her hand. Her hands are only shaking a little when she reaches over to coat the dildo with lube, and she angles it to tease the lips around her cunt.</p><p>“Jaime-” Brienne bites her lip as she slides the dildo inside her, shuddering as the curved end rubs against her, inside her, slick with lube and her own excitement. “You’re so good to me –ahh, so <em>very </em>good… Do you want to touch yourself?” Brienne sinks fully into the water as Jaime groans, and she shivers despite the warm water; he’s waiting for her permission, and that level of trust is overwhelming.</p><p>“<em>Please</em>, Brienne. Please… gods, I don’t know how much longer I can wait.” Brienne’s answering groan is loud against the hard surfaces of the bathroom, and she thrusts the dildo into her with a whimper.</p><p>“Brienne, please.” Jaime begs, and she gasps at how needy he sounds.</p><p>“Yes– Jaime, touch yourself.” Jaime’s groan of satisfaction is instantaneous once he has her permission, and she smiles around her own pleased sigh. “Be good for me-ah, just like that-” Brienne, hearing the sigh of pleasure from Jaime, barely avoids cracking her head open as she throws her head back in pleasure. The water is slapping the sides of the bath as her hips drive up into her hand and the silicone cock, and she can’t form many more words other than <em>yes </em>and <em>right there</em> and <em>so good</em>.</p><p>Jaime’s equally vocal with his own breathy sighs and groans of pleasure, and Brienne is lost when she hears a choked off cry from Jaime’s side of the phone before he manages to say “Brienne I-I’m- fuck-” and Brienne cries out for him to <em>be good</em> and <em>come for me</em> before her own words transform into a wail of her own that is sure to earn her a reprimand from the neighbors.</p><p>As the warm water breaks against her shoulders, Brienne cracks open her eyes. “Jaime?”</p><p>She hears a chuckle and a groan from the phone.</p><p>“Fucking hells, Brienne. You’re going to kill me.”</p><p>Brienne blushes, and she hisses slightly as she withdraws the toy, placing it on the bath caddy. “There are worse ways to go, aren’t there?” She teases, and she’s buoyant when it earns her another laugh from Jaime.</p><p>“I’d like the opportunity for you to do it in person.” Brienne can’t see Jaime’s face, but she can hear the same openness in his voice she heard when he had declared she was “incredible”, and Brienne buries her face in her hands, unable to resist the way Jaime is making her beam, but wanting to hold it close so it can stay safe and precious and hers for just a moment.</p><p>“You’ve still got at least a week left before that happens, Jaime.” Brienne’s chastisement has no real heat behind it, and she can feel Jaime’s smile on the other side.</p><p>“I hate that you’re right, but… you’re right. This thing is still a little gross.” Brienne rolls her eyes, but grins over at her phone fondly before drying her hands on a nearby towel and picking it up, turning off the speakerphone.</p><p>“I told you so.” Jaime laughs on his side, and Brienne brings her legs up to her chest, hugging the crackling laughter to her skin like a hug.</p><p>“You did. So I guess I’ll have to settle for another phone call. I’m free at the end of the week?” At Jaime’s hopeful question, Brienne closes her eyes and relaxes back into the water.</p><p>“It’s a date.”</p>
<hr/><p>After their second phone call, Brienne asks Jaime how his tattoo feels because she’s spent at least an hour today examining his morning photo for any signs of redness or flaking to no avail, and she’s about to fly into a million pieces at what that means, but she’s not going to do <em>anything</em> until she hears Jaime say he feels one hundred percent again.</p><p>“I forgot it was there today until a few minutes ago… I’m hoping you’ll tell me that’s a good sign.” Jaime replies, and Brienne flops back on her bed, red-faced and grinning.</p><p>“It’s a great sign.” She beams up at her ceiling. “Jaime, are you free tomorrow night?”</p><p>Jaime’s response is a gleeful whoop, and she laughs breathlessly at his enthusiasm mere moments after both of them had been panting in their respective beds.</p><p>“Are you sure I can’t drive over right now? I’d even go the speed limit.” Jaime pleads, and Brienne blushes at his enthusiasm.</p><p>“The unsexy answer is no, I need to do laundry before I work tomorrow.” Jaime laughs at her frankness, and Brienne’s flush spreads to the tips of her fingers as she lets her voice drop. “But I could just tell you I need you to wait for me, Jaime. Can you do that for me?”</p><p>Jaime’s inhale is sudden, his beautifully devastated timbre is back when he says, “Yes, Brienne.”</p><p>Brienne shivers.</p><p>“Very good.”</p><p>She knows that in twenty four hours, she’s going to be able to feel the way Jaime reacts when she says those two words to him in person. She’s going to see his eyes flash at her, she’s going to feel the way he inhales sharply and lets it out slowly to impress her, and she’s going to feel his smile against her neck; all the things she’s had to imagine these weeks will start to transform into a messy and thrilling reality tomorrow. Her toes are tingling with anticipation.</p><p>“Tomorrow?” Brienne bites her lip against a grin at how excited and chagrined in equal amounts Jaime’s voice manages to come through even through the phone.</p><p>“Tomorrow.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I mention Addam by name as Jaime's last relationship, but if you're curious about Brienne's, I decided I really loved the idea of who Brienne would be coming from a healthy relationship with Ellaria. I also kinda adore the idea of all four of them living their best lives as a friend group at Pride, and I'm living vicariously through them since it's probably gonna be a while until the world is safe enough for Pride to be back! &lt;3 </p><p>Next chapter.... 🔥🔥🔥</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jaime and Brienne see each other face to face a second time</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Jaime walks into the Inked Thorn the next day, he’s grateful to be greeted by a young woman with long curls of brown hair instead of Olenna. When he mentions he’s there to see Brienne, however, he gets a prickling feeling of familiarity in the way the young woman laughs before gesturing towards the hallway.</p><p>“Brienne let me know you’d be showing up. I assume you know where to find her studio?” The young woman smiles all too knowingly, and Jaime mutters a quick thank you before escaping from what he’s half-convinced must be Olenna fresh off a journey for the fountain of youth. He taps on Brienne’s studio door, and takes a steadying breath before opening the door in answer to her muffled “Come in!”</p><p>Brienne is halfway through pulling a leather jacket on when Jaime enters her studio, but she lets it fall back onto her chair when he walks through the door.</p><p>“Hey.”</p><p>Jaime swallows, but he manages to resist the urge to wave awkwardly and responds with an equally eloquent “hey” back to Brienne before they both burst into nervous giggles.</p><p>Jaime runs a hand through his hair, and indicates towards the door with his shoulder. “Sorry, I think I just encountered Olenna under a de-aging spell, and I’m nervous she’s about to turn me into a toad for coming back here.” Brienne’s giggles grow, and Jaime relaxes as it fills the room.</p><p>“That’s Olenna’s granddaughter. Margaery could probably wreck all of King’s Landing like her grandmother, and still have time to plan a new park in the city center before lunch.” Brienne’s laughter quiets, and she looks across the tiny tattoo studio at Jaime. “Did you come here to spread conspiracy theories about the Tyrells, Jaime?”</p><p>Jaime’s feels a frisson of excitement in his blood, and his voice is low as he replies, “No. No I’m pretty sure I’m here so a certain B. Tarth can have her wicked way with me.” Before the words are fully out of his mouth, Brienne has crossed the room, and he’s pulling her into his arms to finally kiss her fervently.</p><p> Jaime groans as he feels all of Brienne pressed against him, and his head thunks against the wall as she pushes into his space, her generous mouth quirking into a grin even as she teases at his bottom lip with her tongue. As much as Jaime has begged Brienne to take control and has gripped his cock in pleasure as she’s told him exactly what to do during their phone calls, the gentleness of her tongue <em>asking</em> for more is nearly as intoxicating as every bit of control Jaime has surrendered to her. His hands sweep her hair up away from her face as he digs his fingers into her scalp, surging forward as his lips part.</p><p>Brienne’s answering gasp of laughter and pleasure is swallowed by the pressure of their tongues against one another, and it’s only when Brienne nips at his bottom lip that Jaime’s senses recall anything more than the taste and feel of Brienne, fresh and potent against him.</p><p>“Jaime.” She breathes his name in exasperated delight, and those word-defying eyes of her simmer with hunger, even as her voice remains cool. “I’m not going to fuck you in my tattoo studio.” Brienne’s hands stroke up his arms, and she firmly grasps them. The pressure is slow but steady, and Jaime is close to shaking from how gently she does it. He swallows and nods with what he hopes is only a little bit of disappointment, and Brienne’s answering snort is once again full of exasperation.</p><p>“I live five minutes away.” Jaime blinks, and Brienne watches him patiently as he processes what she just said.</p><p>“Oh. <em>Ah.</em>” Jaime grins as Brienne’s head falls against his neck and he feels her laughter travel down his spine. He relaxes into her grip, and smiles as she pulls away to look at him. Brienne has been the one asking Jaime each step of the way, and Jaime’s breath is soft against Brienne’s cheek as he leans forward to murmur in her ear.</p><p>“Will you take me home, Brienne?” His hands slide away from her hair, and he laces his fingers with hers before her face breaks into a sunny smile and she tugs him through the door. Brienne manages to wave good-bye to Margaery Tyrell with only a hint of a blush warming her face, and Jaime misses her gleeful response to Brienne as they walk out the door.</p><p>The sun is just starting to set as they step out onto the street, and Brienne inhales the crisp early evening air before she looks over to Jaime with a shy smile. He grins back at her, and relishes in her laugh as he waggles his eyebrows. They’re quiet on the walk to her apartment, but Jaime is certain he wouldn’t be able to keep anything coming out of his mouth safe for being in the public anyways, so he doesn’t find the quiet uncomfortable.</p><p> Admittedly, it’s also not without tension as Brienne has somehow found a way to suggestively run her thumb up and down Jaime’s, and now all he can think of is how he’s less than five minutes away from getting to use that thumb on Brienne instead of himself tonight.</p><p>
  <em>Fuck.</em>
</p><p>Jaime sighs with relief when they stop in front of a building and Brienne reaches in her pocket for a ring of keys. Within seconds of the door closing behind them, he’s reaching for Brienne to press him against it. She obliges willingly, and Jaime only has the time to let his jacket fall from his shoulders before his arms are full once more with Brienne.</p><p> Their kisses slow only for a moment when Brienne tugs him back into the room, making her way over to the large bed in the corner of her studio. She pauses once to make sure they aren’t about to trip as she maneuvers them both to her bed and again to let both of them kick their shoes off, but the small interruptions are nothing compared to the feeling of Brienne finally in his arms.</p><p>Brienne’s hands are on his shoulders by the time they get to the bed, and she stops for a moment, looking down at Jaime with an arched brow. He realizes she’s waiting for the go-ahead to fully ravish him, and his heart swoops even as he nods eagerly. A rush of heat fills her gaze before she pushes him back onto the bed. The gentleness in the way Brienne takes control is like an electric spark down his spine, and he lands on the edge with a moan.</p><p>“You’re behaving so beautifully, Jaime.”</p><p>Brienne’s voice is husky, but there’s an edge of awe to it as well, and Jaime shudders as her words of praise go straight to his cock. His response almost gets caught in his throat, but Jaime isn’t about to stop telling Brienne exactly what he wants now. “Does that mean I’ve earned a reward?”</p><p>Brienne’s eyes light up with laughter, even as she keeps her face calm and collected. “Tell me what you want.”</p><p>Jaime’s mouth goes dry, and he swallows before asking, “Will you take your clothes off?”</p><p>Brienne’s hands hover at the buttons of her shirt, and he can see her own eagerness in the way she has to clutch the fabric before she replies.</p><p>“Say please.”</p><p>Jaime swears as Brienne’s playful command makes his cock press uncomfortably against his jeans, but he manages to collect himself long enough to utter a strangled, “Please”.</p><p>“Good, Jaime. <em>Very</em> good.” Brienne’s voice is still calm, but she yanks at her shirt’s buttons with a lightning speed that betrays her collected demeanor, and Jaime groans when her shirt falls to the floor, revealing breasts in no need of a bra, and the tattoos Jaime’s dreamed of seeing again for weeks. Soon, Brienne’s jeans and underwear are lying in a tangled heap on the ground, and Brienne is stepping towards Jaime.</p><p> “Wait. Please. I want to look at you.” Jaime says, and Brienne pauses before taking a step back. Jaime inhales sharply, a thrill sliding down his spine at how quick Brienne is to honor his request.</p><p>Brienne stands next to her bed, looking down at Jaime, and he props himself on his elbows to take her in. There had been tension in her shoulders right before Jaime had asked to see her, but in the fading sunlight and under Jaime’s gaze, she stands tall. The blinds are cracked open just enough for strips of the fading sun to illuminate and warm her skin, and Jaime’s suddenly very glad to already be lying prone on the bed because the sight of Brienne in shades of sunlight makes his head spin.</p><p>Brienne’s skin is practically luminescent where the sun hits each of her tattoos, and Jaime hopes she’ll let him lavish attention onto each one of them. His eyes trail down her sculpted arms, taking in the sunflowers blooming at her shoulders, the sun and moon swirling around a wave as it engulfs an anchor. Her chest and sides are mostly bare, although Jaime’s mouth goes dry as the sun arching across her body turns the pale pink of Brienne’s nipples into a rich coral, another place he’s desperate to bite and lick once he’s had his fill of looking. Then again, Jaime isn’t sure if he’s ever going to have his fill of looking at Brienne.</p><p>The only mark on her torso is a beautifully rendered realistic dove carrying ribbons in its beak. There are Andal numerals written on the four strands of the ribbon, and this is a tattoo Jaime knows he will only kiss and stroke gently, knowing now the numbers mark the dates she lost her mother and siblings. Their second call had started with Jaime begging Brienne to describe each work of art on her body, and he remembers how she hesitated before describing this one, and where it was placed. (<em>Would you let me touch it? Soothe it when you miss them? </em>Jaime remembers asking, and he remembers how delicate and young Brienne had sounded when she had softly replied<em> Yes.</em>)</p><p>Brienne continues to watch him, and for a moment, Jaime is pleased with her patience as his eyes rake over the rest of the tattoos he can see from his position on the bed. He knows she also has an impressive piece on her back she hasn’t yet let him see, <em>dragon wings framing a ship sailing for the horizon</em>, so all that’s left for him to admire is the impossible length of her legs, and the art scattered across them, tiny sketches of black against the expanse of her pale skin. He licks his lips as his eyes trace over the rope tattoo winding across her thigh, and he grins at the Jolly Roger tattoo fading on her ankle. Once Jaime is satisfied, he glances back up to Brienne.</p><p>“Well?” Jaime blinks as he sees Brienne run a hand through her hair, a nervous tic he’s not yet used to, and his heart beats a haphazard rhythm against his chest at how she’s managed to stand and let him look and be unafraid.</p><p>“Remember how I told you how incredible you were?” Jaime’s smile is warm as Brienne takes two steps towards him.</p><p>“I do.”</p><p>Jaime pushes himself up fully on his hands, craning his neck so he can take in every freckle on Brienne’s face.</p><p>“I didn’t even know the half of it.”</p><p>Brienne makes a strangled noise, and before Jaime knows it, she’s half on top of him, kissing him again. These kisses are short and heated, and each one is merely teasing at the full potency Brienne can deliver. Jaime finds himself flat on his back again, Brienne poised above him, her naked frame only barely brushing him, reminding him all too well how he’s still completely dressed. Jaime groans in frustration, and he’s rewarded with the low sound of Brienne chuckling into his ear. She leans away, and Jaime tries to follow her up until she places a firm hand on his shoulder.</p><p>Jaime obeys the silent command and follows the pressure of her hand back down to the bed. Brienne releases his shoulder and runs a finger across his sternum and up his neck, releasing another shiver that runs up his spine. Brienne brushes his kiss-swollen mouth with her thumb, and Jaime fights the urge to look away from the tender expression in her honest blue eyes.</p><p>“Brienne, will you <em>please</em> finally sit on my face?” Jaime can’t help the needy way the words tumble out of his mouth, and he’s rewarded with another laugh from Brienne that has him grinning helplessly under her. Jaime doesn’t remember laughing this much in bed in a long time (if he’s being honest with himself, it hasn’t happened since Addam) and if it weren’t for the growing need to taste and touch Brienne anywhere she wants him to, he’d want to spend hours luxuriating in how their combined laughter doesn’t dull the heat between them.</p><p>Brienne clearly has other ideas, and her laughter dies on a sweet kiss as she silently coaxes him onto the bed. Jaime can only feel her lips and the occasional brush of her fingers or a slight grazing of her thigh against his, but he doesn’t particularly need convincing. Soon he feels the softness of a pillow being tucked under his head, and Brienne is gazing down at him. She worries at her bottom lip as she fidgets with the pillow and Jaime dares to slide a hand up to grasp her wrist gently.</p><p>“Brienne. Come here.” Her worry slips away and she cocks an eyebrow at him, and without any prompting Jaime grins before adding, “Please.”</p><p>Brienne pulls Jaime’s hand up to her mouth as it stays gently circled around her wrist, and she places a feather-light kiss on Jaime’s knuckles before she pulls away, looking down critically at him before biting on her lip again. This time, Jaime’s gratified to see it’s merely to hold in a smile, and he spreads his arms out wide. “I’m all yours, B. Tarth.”</p><p>Brienne kneels on the bed next to Jaime’s face and she runs a hand down his jaw. Her movements are just as sure and steady as they were three weeks ago, but this time Jaime doesn’t need to bother with decorum. He lets out a groan, trying to chase her hand as she pulls away. Brienne’s eyes sparkle and she runs her hand through his hair, giving it a gentle tug.</p><p>“Think you can be nice and still for me, Jaime?” Her voice is low and playful, and Jaime gasps as her fingers massage along his scalp.</p><p>“Probably not. I’ve been dreaming of getting to writhe underneath you for too long.” Jaime tries to angle his head towards hers, but Brienne’s finger tips press against the nape of his neck. There’s no pain, just pressure, and Jaime moans as he keeps his head still.</p><p>“Do you need my help to keep you focused, Jaime?”</p><p>
  <em>Gods, I could come just from listening to her voice.</em>
</p><p>“I-yes.” Jaime’s voice is strained with need, and he’s rewarded with a throaty chuckle from Brienne. Jaime hears her shifting next to him on the bed until he feels her weight above the crown of his head. She takes moments to card her fingers through his hair as she rearranges herself on the bed, murmuring praises as he stays still.</p><p>“I want you to grab onto my ankles, Jaime. If you need a break or if you don’t feel safe, you’re going to squeeze them three times, okay?”</p><p>Jaime nods, his heart beating loud at Brienne’s care and attention. “Okay.”</p><p>Brienne’s hands leave Jaime’s scalp, and he moans as his vision is obscured. Brienne’s thighs are warm against the sides of his face, and he stretches his arms out eagerly, running his hands down her calves until he’s grasping her ankles. She still hovers above him, but there is no disguising the scent of her and how fucking close she is to his mouth, and he can still hear her gasp when he playfully tugs on her ankle, coaxing her down.</p><p>She’s trembling against his jawline and he can feel her ankles tense against his palm, and Jaime cannot wait a second longer before he thrusts his head up to taste the woman he’s dreamed about for the past three weeks.</p><p><em>Dreams are shit</em>, Jaime faintly thinks as Brienne finally sinks down against his mouth, her moan muffled by her thighs pressed against his ears. In his dreams, there was no way to guess how Brienne’s cunt would be slick without him spending hours kissing his way down her frame. In dreams, there’s no way to describe the tang of her on his tongue, a taste he wants to chase until he dies. There’s no possible way to <em>dream</em> the way pressing his nose against her swollen clit will mean she has to grasp his hips to keep from falling as she whines with pleasure.</p><p>Dream Brienne, Jaime realizes, also didn’t do what Brienne is doing right now. He feels her running her hands down his torso, feels a cool breeze of air against his stomach, quickly soothed by her warm hands. Jaime’s wordless appreciation for Brienne’s attentive caresses manifests in a slow rhythm of his tongue pressing against her clit, eliciting more beautiful, muffled sighs and moans from the woman above him.</p><p>Holding onto Brienne’s ankles, tethering himself to not completely losing himself in tasting <em>and</em> touching every bit of Brienne he can works wonders as a focus, so it only barely registers to him when he feels her caresses move past his newly healed tattoo down to the waistband of his jeans. Before Jaime knows it, Brienne’s moans are all too apparent because he can feel them against his cock as she mouths at him through the denim. Jaime groans, jutting his head forward, doing his damndest to tell Brienne <em>gods, yes, please, </em>with the bridge of his nose pressing insistently against her cunt.</p><p>Brienne pulls her mouth away and Jaime faintly tracks the movement of her hands dragging the zipper to his jeans down because now Brienne is rocking back and forth against his tongue and Jaime is greedily memorizing every whine and whimper he is able to elicit from her as her hips rock above him.</p><p>All of a sudden, Jaime feels Brienne murmuring praises against his exposed cock. Her fingers are digging into his hips, both pinning and caressing him in equal measure, and Jaime feels like he’s about to fly into a thousand pieces at the torture of having her so near. He couldn’t move his jaw to beg Brienne for more even if he <em>wanted</em> to take it away from the intoxicating work of making her moan, but <em>gods</em> does he want more, and so he does the only thing he can think of to let Brienne know how much he wants her to continue. He twists his head slightly, his nose still creating what he <em>knows</em> is a delicious pressure against Brienne’s clit, and he lets out a breath against her inner thigh in a slow, unmistakable hiss.</p><p>Brienne’s cry is muffled by her taking as much of Jaime as she can manage into her mouth, but even with her legs gripping his head and even with his cock full against her tongue, Jaime can feel every note of it vibrating against his length, which is a new, blessed form of torture. The two of them find a tormented balance of care and chasing their desire; Jaime does his best to keep from twitching his hips when Brienne’s mouth is warm and wet against his hard length, and he can feel Brienne’s legs starting to shake each time he slides his tongue inside her. Even as he can feel Brienne shaking as she gets closer and closer, she still runs her hands in wordless praise against his skin. When Brienne’s hands massage against his trembling hips, he can hear them telling him <em>good, so good for me</em>, <em>you’re doing beautifully Jaime</em> and he can hardly bear it.</p><p>Jaime doesn’t want to come this close to Brienne’s mouth, not before he’s felt all of her against him at least once, and so he lets go of Brienne’s ankles to grab her hips, and tugs her closer to his tongue and away from his cock. Brienne is close, he can feel it in the way she keeps whimpering each time she breaks away from him for air, and he strains to bury his face completely between her legs, relishing the way she gaps his name against his hip before going limp.</p><p>Jaime slowly coaxes her to his side, sitting up and kissing his way up to her neck. Her skin is warm against his tongue, and each line of ink in her skin seems to glow. Brienne flumps back against Jaime’s chest, her attempts to catch her breath at war with the way she keeps reaching for him, desperate to bring his kisses away from the dip in her shoulder to her own mouth.</p><p>Jaime grins against her mouth as she murmurs praises between slow kisses, and he only pulls back for a moment to tug his shirt off, finally able to luxuriate in the feel of Brienne’s skin warm against his. There is stillness to Brienne as he holds her against him. Jaime has noticed her stillness and her fidgeting both, and he knows some of the history that creates these small moments where Brienne does not look about to conquer the world. Jaime is just reckless enough to think perhaps there is room for him in those spaces where Brienne is vulnerable. Brienne’s eyes flutter shut as he presses his mouth, hot and wanting, against the tip of a dragon wing on her back, and he smiles against her skin as it softens the furrow in her brow.</p><p>“How are you feeling?” Brienne’s voice is filled with satisfaction, and Jaime feels it resonate against his chest as she pulls away to examine him. He’s certainly looking quite the picture at the moment, and he can’t help but laugh as a flush spreads down Brienne’s neck. His jeans are still halfway pulled down his legs, making his exposed, half-hard cock look downright comical. He’s touched that Brienne doesn’t laugh, however, and that her concern for his well-being is genuine. It doesn’t hurt that there’s a well of hunger bringing light to her extraordinary eyes. He can feel his own face warming pleasantly with an as-of-yet unsatiated hunger of his own.</p><p>“I wouldn’t mind making that a regular habit,” Jaime’s voice is haggard and low, betraying the want behind his flippant words. There is a moment’s warning in the way Brienne’s shoulders flex, and before Jaime can fully process it, Brienne is hovering above him as his back hits the bed. She’s tantalizingly just out of his reach, their arms are tangled together above his head. Jaime moans at the lack of friction. Her face is fierce and she looks ready to slay a dragon or jump from an airplane, but instead she simply leans down to stop Jaime’s heart, gently kissing her way up his jaw, catching his earlobe in her teeth before she murmurs so softly Jaime can barely register it.</p><p>“You’re magnificent.” Brienne’s words of praise are in tight harmony with Jaime’s groan. His hips buck off the bed, and Brienne’s voice is tinged with a laugh as she continues to tell Jaime how good and patient he’s been, hovering above him like some sort of angel sent to torment him. Jaime has enough leverage to finally kick off his jeans, and his body strains towards Brienne’s in a way that would be embarrassing if it weren’t for the way Brienne keeps detailing just how much she can’t wait to show him how much she likes the way he’s listened to her.</p><p>Jaime’s cock is hard and heavy between them, and a tight corner of his mind is impressed when he can find the ability to hear Brienne when she pushes up off the bed.</p><p>“Be good for me and stay there, Jaime.” Jaime’s eyes shut in anticipation, and so he can only hear the way lust and laughter mix together in Brienne’s low command. He nods sharply, sweat breaking out on his stomach and his brow.</p><p>Jaime’s eyes open again when he feels Brienne’s weight return to the bed, and he struggles up to his elbows to drink in the sight of her long fingers as they tear open the wrapper of a condom. She kneels next to him, brushing some hair out of his eyes before she focuses on rolling the latex over his hard length. Jaime’s head falls back, and instead of a groan, he once again takes a shuddering inhale in, letting it out on a slow hiss. The only other thing Jaime has the ability to do is moan how much he wants Brienne.</p><p>Brienne smiles as she straddles him, her hands placed firmly on his chest as she hovers above him, and Jaime’s smile disappears into a pleasured gasp when she sinks down onto his cock, moaning her words of praise this time.</p><p>“That’s <em>very</em> good, Jaime.”</p><p>Jaime’s ability to speak has completely left his body, so all he can do is let out a strangled mix of a shout and a whine as he feels Brienne start to rock her hips in slow, ruinous beats. Somehow, somewhere, he’s able to find the beginning of the word <em>please</em>, and Brienne lets out a pleased hum before she obliges.</p><p>Jaime manages to work a hand between their bodies even as Brienne’s pace makes him unable to remember where he is, what his name is, and what year it is. All he knows right now is <em>Brienne </em>and <em>gods yes</em> and <em>please</em>, which all mix together with her whimpered words of adoration as she rides him.</p><p>Brienne’s legs tremble against his hips, and Jaime groans when she falls forward, both her arms braced against his head. Jaime is chasing her moans once again. Now he knows her voice gets breathy and high when she’s close, and he wants to feel her climax before his own, he needs it, he craves it more than air. It’s nothing compared to the way Brienne’s nipples graze his body as she rocks back and forth. Why should Jaime care about <em>breathing</em> when he has a beacon of sunshine and strength telling him to keep going, to keep being good, to make her come?</p><p>Jaime groans as he buries his head in the crook of Brienne’s neck, hoarsely crying out a final <em>please</em> as his fingers press insistently against her clit, and he is finally rewarded with a stuttered gasp of his name into his ear as Brienne clenches around him.</p><p>Her hips twitch as Brienne loses control, and she’s now the one moaning nonsense into his ear, but in between the <em>gods fuck</em> and the <em>so good, you’re so good</em> Jaime catches Brienne repeating his own <em>please</em> back to him, and Jaime can’t hold back the whimper of pleasure her <em>please</em> manages to rip from his throat. He can’t hold back anything when it’s Brienne asking him to let go. So he doesn’t.</p><p>Brienne clings to him as he relinquishes control and explodes with pleasure with her name falling from his lips in a strained cry. When Jaime finally remembers what breathing is again, Brienne is still wrapped around him, her breathing heavy. She lifts up off of him, and once the condom is efficiently disposed of, they come together again, both sets of long limbs tangled in one another.</p><p>“So. You said you felt like making this a habit, hmm?” Brienne’s voice sounds a little raspy, and Jaime can’t help a small swelling of pride at having that effect on Brienne. Of course, his voice is equally as rough with his response, and he hopes the high color on Brienne’s shoulders and cheeks are an indicator of her feeling a similar rush of pride. Seven knows it would be deserved.</p><p>“I’d like that a lot. I told you. I want to hold onto something permanent.” Jaime loosens his embrace to look into Brienne’s eyes. “Now I’m not one for prayer or fate, but I also think the universe wasn’t being lazy when I sent you that email, and I know it wasn’t when you answered back. I've got a part of you with me forever now. I'd like to stick around for at least as long as the tattoo does."</p><p>Brienne’s hands shake slightly against his back with unspoken emotion, and he leans forward to place a fond kiss on her freckle-dotted nose.</p><p>“I’d like that.” Brienne’s voice is quiet, but Jaime catches the grin tugging at her mouth before she presses it against the tendon of his neck tenderly.</p><p>The rest of the evening is filled with the first small steps in their journey together. It involves a change of sheets getting delayed by Jaime making good on his promise to run his tongue along more of Brienne’s tattoos, arguing about how much Parmesan is too much on pizza, and Brienne having to ice her nose after making contact with Jaime’s elbow in their later attempt at round three.  As Brienne walks him through folding a fitted sheet with a tissue still stuck up her nose, Jaime finds his face almost split in the grin that refuses to go away, and a thought crosses his mind that has him struggling not to startle Brienne with a bark of laughter.</p><p><em>I really </em>should<em> send Stark that fruit basket.</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope y'all enjoyed this! Thanks once again to the great forbiddenfantasies for telling me I should write this. It's genuinely the filthiest thing I think I'll ever commit to the page, so now I don't have to worry about trying to out-do myself 😂</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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